Flashbacks and Echoes
by CaptainTyphlosion
Summary: Post-Avengers. Slightly AU. "She was missing something; that much she had gathered. She had amnesia, they told her when she woke up, and her memory would return in time. So why did it feel like something more than that?" Darcy/Loki
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So, yeah. 'Sup guys. This is my first TaserTricks fic after about months of making gifs for the paring, so I'm fully prepared for this to be terrible. I took a few ideas from my gifs, and decided to try my hand. Hopefully it's not too confusing :/. I'm also sorry if the whole thing with the doctor is unrealistic, or whatever, but it was the only way I could really start the thing was that way. Also, this is my first time writing with Darcy and Loki, so if they're out of character, I apologise. I'll try my best to keep them in character though:).

Try to ignore any mistakes their will most likely be. And I hope you enjoy:).

**_I own_** _**nothing**__**.**_

* * *

"_Remembering him comes in __**flashbacks and echoes**__._"

. . .

_'Red'; Taylor Swift_

* * *

"How are you, Darcy?"

Darcy didn't reply. She wasn't even aware the doctor had asked her a question. She continued to stare at the wall, her eyes fixed on a small chip in the paint. She was lost in her mind again, as she always was when she came in. She felt like she was missing something - something _important_ but no one would tell her what. She had her suspicions, but of course, without proof, it was all just speculation.

"Darcy," said the doctor.

Her eyes found him as he settled into the chair opposite her. He was an elderly fellow, with a kind smile and eyes that never left her when she spoke. It was unnerving. And he always had his pen poised to write on a little notepad, ready to report everything back to S.H.I.E.L.D. She didn't know what they were so interested in, or why they were interested at all. She couldn't remember the last six months of her life, so what did she have to offer?

Darcy stared at the camera in the corner of the room and wondered who was watching right now. They were all eager for information she couldn't give, couldn't _remember._ But it did make her think - with the way they were treating her, would she even _want_ to tell them if she did have the information they desired?

She wanted to like the doctor - really, she did - but she was ever aware that he was a S.H.I.E.L.D doctor, trained just like their agents. He was a kind, friendly man, yes, but he was also blunt and straight to the point. He never beat around the bush. Darcy looked at him, showing him he had her full attention, and he got right to it.

"How are you, Darcy?" he asked again. Darcy gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Doing alright," she replied. He nodded.

"Have you remembered anything recently?"

Darcy shook her head. The doctor scribbled something down on the pad. She watched him do so, wishing she could see what he was writing. Then he faced her again, and Darcy could tell that this was his 'no nonsense' stance.

"Do you remember moving into Stark Tower with Jane Foster and Erik Selvig?" he asked.

The first time he had asked that question, Darcy was taking a drink from the provided glass of water. The resulting answer was water and spit all down the doctor's shirt, due to Darcy's surprise that he would even ask such a question. She'd never even _dreamed_ that she would see Stark Tower in her life, but to hear from someone that she'd stayed there had been unbelievable.

Consequently, she wasn't allowed anymore glasses of water during her appointments.

Darcy shook her head in reply to his question. The doctor nodded again and wrote something else on his little pad. She wanted to smack her head against the wall.

"I don't know why you're writing this down," she remarked, somewhat bitterly. "I've told you all this before."

The doctor said nothing and Darcy slumped back in her seat. He was still writing things down and it infuriated her. What could he possibly have to write down? She hadn't said anything new - at least not that she was aware of - and she was sure his superiors were watching their conversations through the cameras. What did he possibly have to report?

"The last time you were here, you said you were going to see Dr Selvig," said the doctor, giving her his attention again. "How did that go?"

Darcy swallowed and shrugged. "Well, y'know, it's awkward between us for some reason. I don't know what happened, but everyone else seems to. But no one will tell me. I keep feeling like I've done something wrong."

Another nod. "Do you think you'll be able to solve these problems the two of you have?"

"If someone will tell me what happened, then yeah."

Darcy watched the pen move across the paper, biting her lip and regretting the decision to leave her taser in her apartment. She was getting sick of seeing him write things down, especially when there was _nothing_ to write down.

"Why do you think things are '_awkward_' between you?" questioned the doctor. He was giving her a gentle smile, as if that might make her remember.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "I mean, we were never actually really _close_ but we were friendly. I think."

"Do you think things were different after Dr Selvig returned to yourself and Miss Foster?"

"Well, Erik was different anyway," Darcy said. "I mean, he'd been brainwashed and everything, so I guess things _were_ going to be different."

The doctor nodded again, writing something else down. Darcy rolled her eyes; she'd said words to the same effect the last time she was there. Why on Earth did he need to write it down again? He paused for a moment, his pen poised over the pad. Darcy looked at him, waiting. Then:

"You know about Dr Selvig being, er, '_brainwashed_'," he said, "so, by default, you must know about the war criminal, Loki."

Darcy shrugged, "Doesn't everyone?"

The doctor gave her a stern look. "What do you know _exactly_?"

Darcy sighed. The same question they had asked her the week before. She was _sick_ of giving them the same answers, day in, day out. Weren't they listening to her _at all_?

"I _know_," she said, "that he tried to take over the planet. And he would've succeeded if the Avengers hadn't stopped him."

The doctor nodded, then asked, "And after that?"

"Thor took him back to Asgard, right?"

The doctor scribbled something on the pad very quickly and Darcy frowned. He looked at her again, seriously - more seriously than she had ever seen him look at her. She cocked her head to the side as the doctor shot a glance at the camera in the corner.

"Why are you asking me about Loki?" she asked him, shaking her head lightly. "I've never even met him before."

"Darcy, Loki returned to Asgard a month ago," the doctor told her quietly. He was looking at her as if the information might trigger something but she couldn't think of anything that would make this information matter to her.

"_So_?"

The doctor sighed and his pen moved across the paper yet again. He looked disappointed. Darcy slumped in her seat, confused and curious as to why the doctor thought she should care that Loki was gone. What did everyone else know that she didn't? What weren't they telling her?

There was an uncomfortable silence until the doctor decided to speak again. He had completely changed the subject, asking about New Mexico, her feelings on the destruction of the town and what she did after Thor's return to Asgard. She answered as honestly as she could, despite having been asked all the questions before, before slouching even further in her seat and glaring at the floor.

"Are you unhappy, Darcy?"

"Yes, I'm unhappy," she snapped, the words spilling out of her mouth. The doctor nodded.

"Why are you unhappy?"

Darcy looked away, fixing on the spot in the wall again, trying to find a way to answer the question. Yes, she was unhappy - she was sure everyone could quite clearly see that. It didn't help that she had to see this doctor every week just to answer the same question _just_ in case she remembered something _valuable_. But, those reasons aside, there was something else that was making her unhappy. Something she couldn't quite describe to anyone without sounding like a lunatic. She was missing something, that much she had gathered. She had _amnesia_, they had told her when she woke up, and her memory would return in time.

So why did it feel like something more than that?

Darcy sighed, fidgeting with a loose thread on her jeans. The more she thought about it, the more frustrated she became. No one would tell her anything about the six months she had missed so she was completely in the dark. What had happened during that time that was so _terrible_ that no one would talk to her about it? But one thing had become abundantly clear with the doctor's little slip up.

The God of Mischief was somehow involved.

"Darcy?" asked the doctor. "Why are you unhappy?"

"Because I'm having to answer stupid-ass questions with the same damn answers every week."

The doctor frowned, wrote down something else, then said, "But there seems to be something more to it than that."

Darcy had to admit: he was good. He could read between the lines better than anyone she knew. Well, maybe not as well as -

She cut herself off with a gasp, sitting upright in her chair. She had been in the middle of thinking about something - some_one_ - when she'd cut herself off unexpectedly. She'd just… _forgotten_ halfway through. The doctor's brow furrowed.

"Darcy?"

Darcy shook her head, scowling at the floor. It wasn't the first time this had happened to her and she had a funny feeling that it wouldn't be the last. It was just… _odd_. She looked at the doctor again, fidgeting in her seat.

"It's nothing," she murmured. His expression softened and Darcy knew he was trying to get her to open up, to be like other doctors. He wanted her to tell him what was on her mind so he could help her like _normal_ doctors would.

But Darcy couldn't look past his background. This man, no matter how friendly he seemed, had been trained as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D along with being a doctor. He would report every single thing she said back to Fury - of that, she was absolutely positive.

He leaned forward in his chair, his voice quiet and gentle as he said, "You know you can tell me, Darcy. I'm here to help you."

She laughed, mocking, "And you're doing a _marvellous_ job with that."

The doctor leaned back, wrote something on the pad and faced her again. Darcy rubbed the back of her neck, frowning. Where had _that_ come from? The words had been so achingly familiar to her but she was sure she had never said them before in her life. Had someone else said them to her, in the very same tone she had used?

A memory appeared in her mind's eye and she reached for it, desperate to cling to something from her missing life. But just as quickly as it had come, it disappeared, leaving Darcy frustrated and wanting nothing more than to leave that dreary, horrible room.

"Darcy?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

The doctor looked curious but he said nothing more. He glanced down at his pad, hesitated for a moment, and then closed it. He started to get to his feet.

"I think that's all for today," he told her quietly. "S.H.I.E.L.D will contact you when they think we need another chat."

Darcy nodded, "Good seeing you, doctor."

_Lies_. _It wasn__'__t good seeing him at all._

She couldn't leave the room fast enough. She wrapped her scarf around her neck as she walked down the corridor to the elevator. They were just moving into December, which meant cold days, hot chocolate and _scarves_. Her favourite, which she had recently discovered at the bottom of her wardrobe, was green and gold patterned; warm and long and smelling of pine and mint. She didn't know why, but it made her feel safe.

She spoke to no one as she left the building, buttoning up her jacket as she ventured out into the cold breeze and to the car waiting to take her back to her apartment.

There was something _good_ about the cold, something she couldn't quite place. She hesitated getting into the car, standing at the door and looking around her. People were rushing about with red noses and cheeks, scarves pulled up and glove covered hands clutching their jackets tighter to them. They all looked like they hated the season and it made Darcy smile as she at last slid into the car.

She wasn't sure where her love of Winter had suddenly come from.

* * *

Darcy's apartment always seemed dull and lifeless, no matter what she did to the place.

It was always dark, despite the time of day, and cluttered and _small_. Her clothes were strewn all over the place; dirty dishes were piling up in the sink; take out boxes sat half eaten on the table. She sighed as she closed the door behind her, stepping over the mess and making her way to the bedroom. She didn't feel like cleaning - she _never_ felt like cleaning - she just wanted sleep.

She kicked off her boots near the sofa, shed her jacket and left it there. She untangled herself from the scarf while she walked to the bedroom, but didn't dare abandon it anywhere. It was familiar to her, even though she couldn't remember actually _buying_ the thing, and she wanted it near her. It sounded crazy, even to _her_, but she tried not to dwell on it.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, clutching the scarf in her hands, Darcy pondered over her appointment. It was strange, even for S.H.I.E.L.D. Asking her about _Loki_, of all people? She'd never even met him before so what did she care about him?

Yet even as she thought of this, she felt a painful tug on her heart. Her hands clung tighter to the scarf, hoping it might cure the pain. Something was wrong, no one could tell her otherwise. And she was sure it had something to do with her lost time. Six months couldn't just disappear from someone's mind and Darcy refused to believe that a bump on the head could do something so drastic to her.

Darcy fell back on the bed, the scarf sprawled on her stomach. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, brow furrowed as she tried to fight against whatever was hiding her memories from her. It wasn't the first time she had tried to do such a thing but she _knew_ she would never try again. The barrier was unyielding and no matter how many things she looked at, hoping it might trigger _something_ - a tiny, unimportant detail, _anything_ - nothing ever came to her.

An aggravated sigh escaped her lips as she got to her feet and dressed for bed. The scarf lay on the bed where she had left it and where she knew it would probably stay for the night. She slipped into an oversized, worn t-shirt before clambering into the large double bed S.H.I.E.L.D had so generously offered her for no reason at all. The bed itself took up most of the bedroom and she almost missed the smaller bed she'd had before.

When her head hit the pillow, she was out almost immediately.

* * *

_The gravel crunched under her boots as she walked. She seemed to be in a labyrinth of some kind, the hedges surrounding her reaching high into the sky. She could only see a couple of feet in front or behind, fog everywhere she looked. She was unnerved, anxious but curious._

_Darcy walked until she was forced to stop, the decision of left or right waiting to be made. She looked each way in turn, but could see nothing but white. She frowned, hugging her arms to herself against the chill. Which way was she supposed to go? She bit her lip and walked to the right. They couldn__'__t be completely different, right?_

_Her pace quickened as she walked along, a chill running down her spine. Something didn__'__t seem right in this dream - it was far, far too real. She wondered if it had happened to her before, during the time she couldn__'__t remember. She kept walking, eyes darting around her wildly, and casting glances over her shoulder more often that usual. Above her, distant but close, a bird took off. A single feather dropped at her feet; sleek and black. She held it in front of her face as she studied it, brow furrowed._

_As she continued to walk forward, she held it close to her._

_The path widened out into a clearing, with a fountain in the dead centre. Darcy wanted to laugh; how many times did you see _that_ in movies, a fountain in the centre of a labyrinth? Nevertheless, she walked over to it, peering into the water. She stared at herself as her reflection rippled in the water, lifting the hand that held the feather. Somehow, she knew she should drop the feather in the fountain. If she did, something would happen._

_Before she could, another face appeared in the water. Darcy gasped, whirling around to face the newcomer and holding the feather out before her protectively. If this was her dream, could she will it to transform into something useful? Like a sword? Or, even better and much more useful, her taser?_

_The man before her was tall, so tall she had to crane her neck up to see his face. Even then, a shadow was cast over his features and it was impossible for her to determine what he looked like. He wore some kind of leather and armour and a green cape that trailed behind him. He held himself with pride, though she thought it unnecessary with the height difference between them, and towered over her threateningly. He didn__'__t step into the light once._

_Despite this, Darcy couldn__'__t find it in herself to be frightened of him. His presence was familiar to her, though she wasn__'__t sure why. As far as she knew, she__'__d never met him before._

"_What are you doing here?__"__ he hissed and Darcy recoiled. Even still, she couldn__'__t look away and she couldn__'__t run from him. She was _safe_ here._

"_What is here?__"__ she found herself replying, staring up at him. He would answer, a part of her knew this already. He would _always_ answer her. She looked at him hopefully, waiting. _

_He dipped down suddenly, his lips capturing hers and large hands gripping her waist. She gripped his forearms, stunned, but she responded anyway. This was her dream and if a strange, tall, hopefully gorgeous man was laying on the moves, she could do whatever she wanted back. It__'__s not like anyone would _know_._

_Everything happened so suddenly after that that even Darcy wasn__'__t sure what had happened. He stopped, his hands left her waist and his eyes bore into hers. They were a startling shade of green, and they were full of guilt._

"_I__'__m sorry,__"__ he murmured._

_And he pushed her backwards._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hi. I'm really sorry I haven't been able to update in a while. Life has gotten in the way. Mehh. I'm not absolutely in love with this chapter; Thor was actually really, really difficult to write! I'm not overly confident on how he came out, and I'm not too sure with any of this really. AH. Anyhoo, hopefully, I've done okay :). Let me know!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed - it really, really means a lot to me!

**_I don't own anything._**

* * *

"_There was a time when I could hear you calling out to me._"

. . .

'_Bird Without Wings_'; _The Material_

* * *

Darcy's days were getting steadily boring and repetitive.

Mostly, she only left her apartment go shopping or see her doctor. Even then, she was very, _very_ aware of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents stationed at every exit. So, she chose to stay inside instead, drowning her loneliness in ice cream and chocolate and sobbing over sappy romance films.

Jane and Erik rarely ever came by to see her, too absorbed in work that she was no longer authorised to help with, and even then Darcy knew that Erik would avoid coming over as much as possible. Jane had called her a few times but the calls only lasted for a maximum of ten minutes, if that. She was always so busy that Darcy didn't seem important anymore. She was feeling so down that she began to wonder if it would be worth her time to move back in with her parents.

On top of all of her problems, she was having issues sleeping as well. She began to find that she could only sleep for about five hours a night and the only way to catch up on her lost sleep was to nap through the day. Darcy knew why she couldn't sleep - it was that dream, the one with the fountain. She always remembered the labyrinth, with the hedges that reached to the sky, and the feather that fell at her feet. Yet whichever path she took, left or right, she wound up at the centre, in front of the fountain, ready to drop the feather in. But she was always - _always_ - stopped before she could and she didn't know why.

Although Darcy could never remember why she was stopped, she had a vivid image of green eyes. It almost hurt her to think about it - the pain, hurt and guilt whenever she met him. The emotions had become more noticeable to her as she continued to have the dream, but that was all she could remember from it.

Amnesia was really beginning to piss her off.

* * *

It was later on in the week when things began to really get interesting for Darcy.

She'd never really believed that her memories would return to her; she'd been home for almost two months and nothing had triggered something forgotten. It was frustrating for her, more than anything, but also a bit of a relief. If something embarrassing had happened during those six months (which something probably had) then it was completely erased and she couldn't dwell on it, like she usually did.

She was trying her hand at cooking, hoping to pass the time by learning a new talent. She knew she'd never been a good cook, always managing to somehow burn even the simplest recipes, or ruin cooking utensils, but something told her to just give it a go. So she found an old recipe of her mothers, a chocolate sponge cake, put her iPod in its docking station and set the volume right up, before she placed all the necessary equipment out on the table.

Darcy found a plain, blue and white apron and couldn't help feeling disappointed that there was no sassy saying on it, like 'Kiss The Cook'. An image appeared in her minds eye; cooking with someone else, someone tall and wearing a green apron and covered in flour and who knew what other ingredients. She remembered laughing until her insides started to hurt and her eyes began to water. She smiled, wishing the memory was clear, only for her face to fall it slipped away again.

Darcy sighed, picking up the bowl nearest to her and starting on the recipe.

* * *

She was congratulating herself on her success as she knelt in front of the oven, hands protected by oven mitts covered in cute little cartoon kittens, and slid her cake out. Her joy was short-lived, however, when she caught her arm on one of the shelves. She hissed, eyes beginning to water again, but she refused to drop the cake and let her hard work go to waste. She grit her teeth, closing the oven door with her foot and placing the cake on the tray.

"Ah, _shit_," Darcy hissed under her breath, whipping off the mitts and tossing them on the table. She reached the sink in no time at all, muttering curses under her breath the whole way until she turned on the tap and cool water began to stream down her arm.

She stared intently at the angry, red mark, a line diagonally across her forearm. She frowned, tilting her head to the side, wondering if it had happened before. Immediately, she dismissed the idea; of course it had happened before, Darcy was no great baker, or anything really. She sighed, wondering if she had some burn cream somewhere in the apartment. She lifted her hand -

"_Damn it,__"__ she muttered. __"__I was going so well!__"_

"_At least we know your strength lies not in baking.__"_

"_Or cooking. Anything to do with the kitchen.__"__ She hissed again. __"__Just let me get this under the tap.__"_

_He gripped her arm quite suddenly as she passed, his cool hand right over her burn. Darcy gasped, a string of profanities already on the tip of her tongue, when the pain began to slowly dissipate. He lifted his hand again, green eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips. She gaped at her arm, mouth dropping open, noting in disbelief that her burn was gone._

"_Wha-? You just- Did you-? Whoa. Uh, thanks.__"_

_He smiled and inclined his head, __"__You are very welcome.__"_

- and turned off the tap.

* * *

She was disturbed later in the afternoon by a knock at her door.

Darcy hadn't been expecting any visitors and was hardly dressed to receive any, wearing an old shirt and tattered, worn jeans. She flattened her hair as best she could as she wandered to the door, swinging it open quickly and blinking in surprise.

"Thor," she said, grinning broadly, "hi. Come in."

"Thank you, Darcy," he said, stepping by her. His large frame crushed her against the wall as he passed her and she couldn't help but note how out of place he seemed in her living room. She'd forgotten just how _tall_ and _massive_ he was since the last time she'd seen him. When _was_ the last time she'd seen him? Seven, eight months ago? Longer? Had she seen him during the time she couldn't remember?

Darcy closed the door, returning her attention to her guest and dismissing any other thoughts in her mind. Thor didn't just drop by for no reason (well, maybe he did for Jane) and she wanted to keep him there for as long as possible. She was missing the company of someone other than whoever her own mind could conjure up. And, really, having conversations with her taser could get rather tedious when it was all one-sided.

She smiled warmly at him, although she figured it was a little awkward as well, given her current situation, but told him to sit down and offered him coffee. He declined the drink but sat down in her favourite spot on the sofa.

"Um, how are things on Asgard?" she started, hoping to break the tension. Thor shifted uncomfortably.

"Not as they were," he answered at last, giving a small smile.

Darcy wasn't exactly sure how to answer that, considering she'd never actually _been_ to Asgard. How could she know what things were like before? She smiled politely, hoping her confusion wasn't too obvious. Darcy swallowed.

"I made some cake," she told him, "would you like a piece?"

Thor smiled.

* * *

An hour later, there was none of Darcy's cake left - not even a _crumb_. She really didn't know why she was surprised; Thor was a _mountain_, with a bottomless pit for a stomach. She'd learned that lesson the first time she met him, when he'd devoured a whole box of Pop-Tarts and was _still_ hungry. His need to constantly be fed was so different from -

Darcy frowned, eyes fixed on the empty plate lying on the table. Thor was speaking to her, telling her something about Asgard, but she found she was hardly listening. His words were muffled and distorted while she tried to bring back what she had been thinking about. Her frown deepened. What _had _she been thinking about?

"Darcy?"

She glanced up, her frown disappearing as she tried to smile nonchalantly.

"Sorry," she said quickly, hoping to recover what was left of their conversation. "Just zoned out a bit there."

Thor smiled, but there was something about it that screamed that he didn't quite believe her excuse. She distracted herself by getting to her feet and taking the empty plate to the kitchen.

"Coffee?" she called back from the kitchen, then, as an afterthought, "Just don't smash any of my mugs."

"Yes, I think that would be nice," Thor answered, but he'd stood and followed her into the kitchen.

With her back to him, she hoped Thor wouldn't be able to realise how awkward the whole situation was. Usually, she could fill the silences easily, with something irrelevant but interesting to the Thunder God nonetheless, but now…

When she turned, Thor stood in the doorway, watching her curiously. She cocked her head to the side, shifting in her spot. His broad shoulders took up the whole doorway, blocking the light from the living room and making the kitchen feel a lot smaller. He looked… sad, all of a sudden.

"Thor?" she asked quietly, confused. The God said nothing, but he took the mug from Darcy and wandered back out to the living room. She followed, feeling as though she was on to something.

Thor was back on the sofa, leaning back while he downed the coffee all at once. Darcy sat opposite him, eyebrow raised as she watched him. He set the mug down on the table, empty, and looked straight at her.

"Darcy," he started, swallowing before continuing, "I fear I have not been as helpful as I should have been."

Darcy shrugged. "Well, you know. You've been busy. Travelling back and forth from Asgard and stuff…"

"No, I mean with your situation."

"My…? Oh. _Oh_."

Suddenly Darcy didn't feel like speaking anymore. Her mouth had gone dry and she found herself wishing that Thor would just leave her alone. She sighed as Thor looked at her apologetically.

"I believe that S.H.I.E.L.D is being unfair to you," he said, "by isolating you from Jane and her work."

"I never really understood what she was doing anyway, but y'know…"

"But you still miss her."

Darcy set her mug down on the table and sighed. She knew Thor was only trying to help, but he was seriously bumming her out. She was already lonely without having to dwell on the fact that she couldn't see her friends anymore because S.H.I.E.L.D thought she was a security risk. She glanced at Thor, the question she was yearning to ask on the tip of her tongue. Would it be rude of her to just ask? Probably. But that didn't stop her.

"This whole thing… Loki is involved, isn't he?"

Thor started, suddenly more serious as he opened his mouth to ask her how she knew. She shrugged.

"My doctor," she said. "And I've been having these… visions? I don't know what they are, but they're beginning to freak me the hell out. And I can't sleep."

She didn't know why she felt the need to add that she couldn't sleep. Perhaps she was just ranting about everything that was going wrong with her life since she woke up. Naturally she found it unfair that she couldn't remember what the hell had happened, yet everyone else obviously could, and the one-eyed pirate in charge of S.H.I.E.L.D refused to let anyone tell her.

"What do these 'visions' consist of?" asked Thor eventually.

"I dunno," she replied, "they change all the time. I think they're memories? I dunno."

This peaked Thor's interest. "Memories?"

"Yeah. Like, when I was baking, I burned myself. See - " She showed him the reddened flesh on her forearm, the diagonal line which stung even after two hours. " - And I thought it had happened before. And someone - it's completely crazy, though - had healed it for me. But it's crazy, right? I mean, it's not like magic exists or anything."

Immediately, she felt like an idiot. Thor had seen many things in his life, and she remembered reading that book with Jane in New Mexico about Norse Mythology. There had probably been stuff in there. She ran a hand through her hair, before she remembered one another thing.

"And green eyes."

Thor stood abruptly, a grin lighting up his face. Darcy watched him walk to the door, getting to her feet and following him. He didn't stop until he had opened the door, turning to face her and pulling her into one of his bone crushing hugs. She gasped, disoriented and confused when he set her on her feet.

"There is much I need to see to," he told her, sounding far too eager for her liking. "I shall see you very soon, Darcy. I give you my word."

"_Okaaaaaaay_." As Thor turned to leave, she hastily added, "So, Loki _is_ involved, right? I'm not barking up the wrong tree or anything?"

"You are smarter than they give you credit for Darcy," he told her sincerely, before he turned and strode away. Darcy stood at her door, watching him leave, until he was out of sight. She adjusted her glasses and stepped back into her apartment, feeling as puzzled as ever.

She stayed up for a while, watching a few terrible horror films with laughable special effects and pick up lines, before nodding off on the sofa. She woke sometime around midnight, finding herself in her bedroom, her glasses set on the nightstand by her bed. Darcy wondered if she had managed to drag herself to bed earlier. Either way, she was too tired to think on it anymore and fell asleep almost instantly.

When she woke in the morning, her burn was gone.


End file.
